


Echo Hemisphere

by Messprah



Category: Original Work, Science Fiction - Fandom
Genre: Aliens, Community: scifiland, F/M, Help, Original Fiction, Revolution, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-15 07:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Messprah/pseuds/Messprah
Summary: Humans relocated themselves and cross-evolved on a new planet, Orth. A social hierarchy has emerged based on physical features. The highest class and the lowest are forbidden to have children with each other for crucial reasons based on the fate of the world. But one has been raised in secret and set loose, causing chaos.She is Hanko and wants to continue living, although, the world she lives in highly disagrees in fear of the possibility of the world ending because of her existence.





	1. My Name is Hanko

Green hair, red eyes. That's what they all hate. That's all that I am. "Sordibus girl." "Brussel."  
All I know about the reason they all hate me so much is that my hair is green and my eyes are red. "Eyes of the devil." "Hair of grotesque plant." Yeah, my hair clumps around my face like leaves, and my eyes are the stereotypical 'color representation of evil' like in any cheesy cartoon. My skin is pale from the sun I rarely see. "Maybe she'll go Vendetta. But she doesn't know anything about them."  
I'm stuck down here underground, mining away for ores and gems for whatever food I can get. About every 30 sun cycles, a new Mine Master comes down here to supervise from a colossal distance, forcing me to work from sunrise to moonrise. They hurt me in horrendous ways now. Torture me. Whenever I'm not working, I'm either sleeping the few hours I can get, try to eat what I can get, or I'm being 'disciplined'.  
Whenever I don't get something specific by a certain day, they chop off a part of a finger on my right hand. "Just like your pathetic dad's death." I learned not to scream or cry. Tears make me more vulnerable. Screaming doesn't help anything. They eventually cut off my whole arm.  
But I have one other person down here. She's always here, like me but can randomly not be around. They don't seem to care anything about her. They let her talk to me, they don't make her work. They just keep her here with me, acting like she doesn't exist. She told me her name is Di'la. Her hair flows down to her ankles with all these bursts of colors and curls. Though she talks to me, she never uncovers her face from all the hair over it. Her clothes aren't ragged like mine. On the contrary, they're colorful and beautiful like her hair, just not as wondrous. Brightly colored clothes complementing her deep multicolored hair speckled with white.  
She gave me the name I know myself as. "You should have a name. How about..." She paused and thought a bit, "What about Hanko? It sounds like you. I like it. Do you like it?" I didn't have a specific name that anyone called me by. That sounded a lot better than Brussel or Plant girl. I nodded and curled up the corners of my lips in response to admiring her suggestion. Now my name is Hanko. But I always wonder, when did she come down here? She doesn't work, why is she down here? She doesn't eat anything, how does she not look starved with her complete lack of food? Did her parents also 'make the mistake of having her'?  
I don't remember my parents, although the Mine Masters do. But I learned from what they say about them. My mother was put to death by the electric throne. My father was dismembered by his own sword. My mother was said to be cursed. My father destroyed his home. The Mine Masters always say vague things about my parents, saying I'm just like them, "dumb."  
The former Mine Master was more friendly than others. She didn't keep as much of a distance between us. She taught me many new words and how to use them. She told me a few things about the world above called Orth. There are big hollow blocks of cement and stone that people decorate and live in called 'houses'. People are ranked by hair color into their class that identifies 'what they're allowed to do'. The way Orth is mostly ruled is by blue-haired families with big brains who live in places called 'castles'. I still don't know if she really liked me, unlike the rest of the Mine Masters. She only told me these things to, as she said, "inform you about what I'm doing this for."  
She hurt me, only less than the others did. She only slapped my face. She told me about something called 'prosthetic arm'. She said, "If you came up now, then you would get a prosthetic arm to replace your arm that was cut off. But since you're... what you are, no one would give you one." She gave me a new pickaxe, she said it was "a ton more durable and sharper than the one you had before. The other one would have broken soon enough." It looked almost the same as the one I just had. She still confuses me.  
She left after she gave me the pickaxe. No one ever gave me a new pickaxe before. It was only when it broke I would have gotten a new one a few weeks later. She took my old pickaxe and gave me her parting words as she went through the indestructible doors, "Do better than this." She lifted a corner of her lip as the door closed hard, fast and loud. The sound echoed for about five whole seconds. I don't know what she meant by that. Do better work? I didn't know what else could she mean, so I decided to push my limits.  
I did better when the next Mine Master came in a minute later. I swung harder, I ran faster to do more in less time and not disappoint this new Mine Master. I wasn't disciplined. This was a good thing. The sole of my left shoe finally gave after so many layers of strong tape, slowing me down. I wouldn't get another shoe until a few weeks later. My arms ached even more from swinging harder, but it helped me get stronger and it improved my endurance. I could continue even longer without slowing as much. I powered through the pain I was already going through and the newfound pain of more.  
The Mine Master was somewhat impressed, but still hated me for what I am. He still spat out countless vague insults expressing his disgust. I eventually couldn't take it any longer, "Why don't you do this then?" I could only manage that sentence in a hoarse whisper without my throat being in agonizing pain, but somehow he heard me clearly.  
The Mine Master stomped towards me, I was intensely frightened. He grabbed me by the hair, pulled me backwards and drove me to the ground. The pickaxe clattered on the ground, useless without a hand holding it. "You shouldn't be able to speak, sordibus." He menacingly kicked my ribs, over and over. It hurt, just like when they would cut off my fingers.  
My mind flashed back to the first time it happened, about eleven months ago when they decided to start disciplining that way. They didn't whip my back or smash a finger anymore. My thumb was the first target of this, I called it slicing. They went on to my other fingers, my forearm, then up to my shoulder. I choked back screams every time it happened.  
I grabbed the pickaxe with my only arm when I could, my ribs aching from the kicking, still kicking. I swung it as much as I could at his knee, not intentionally trying to impale him out of all my fear. He stumbled backward in pain, clutching his leg. "YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT!"  
He could have pulled out the shock remote, but resorted to brute strength instead. He probably doesn't like to use everything he's given to look tougher, more independent than he really is.  
I scrambled from him as quickly as I could with only one arm holding the pickaxe with trembling fingers. I got up, he lunged forward. I was too quick for him, I landed a hard blow on his shoulder, knocking him down with my force. He cried out and held his bleeding wound. He pulled my foot and brought me down to his horrid self. I swung with all my strength again, striking furiously, closing my eyes. I hit again and again, continuing through the pain and moisture in my eyes. The sounds of what I was doing was too much for me even though I did this out of fear and hidden anger. I was beginning to even fear what I could do, it was overwhelming. I slowed my hits until I could barely feel his gloved grip.  
I opened my eyes, the blurry image of the mangled Mine Master lay limp on the ground, completely motionless, red covering him. Blood flowing out of the wild gashes in his back and neck, all my doing. This was the first time seeing blood that wasn't my own. I blinked the blurriness out of my eyes to make sure I was seeing this right. It was exactly how it looked, blood everywhere and a torn up Mine Master.  
I did kill him. I was free.  
I looked down at the corpse, my eyes searching for what could help me get out. Nothing looked very useful, but his black belt was a common thing all the Mine Masters had. It looked identical to every belt each Mine Master wore. Maybe it was important, so I took that from him and fashioned it around myself. It felt a bit comforting, like a 'hug', I think it's called.  
Shoes, his shoes would be useful to me. My shoes were beat up and the left one was practically demolished. I pulled off my worn-too-often-for-excessive-work shoes and pulled his off of his feet. I admired the workmanship and the colors, blue with red lining the tops. They protected the ankles from the what the world may have. The sole was thick enough for what I did down here to last a whole year. I slipped them on, feeling the comfort others had.  
I found another thing in a side pocket, a cylinder with a circular button. I pushed down the button. Light illuminated into my face, blinding me. I closed my eyes and started seeing colors that weren't what I usually saw. I pressed the button again, the light stopped shining. That could be useful. I set that aside on the ground next to me for later.  
I searched the other side pockets and found food. It smelled like some kind of food and it completely appeared edible. I ate it. It wasn't anything I've eaten before, salty and too easy to break. I ate all of the pale squares, crunching and snapping them in my mouth. That felt amazing.  
I searched everywhere else I could on him, I found what I think is a pocket knife. I put that in my shoe since it was so small. Nothing else seemed of any use or was just an accessory.  
I picked up the flashlight and pushed the button, a circle of the distant wall became much brighter. "Hanko?" I could hear Di'la rushing over, she came into my view, "What did you- You killed him!?" She bowed down to look at the deceased Mine Master, her mouth gave away her obvious expression of surprise and joy. "Hanko, we can get out of here now. We can get OUT."  
I tried to say something, but I could only get out a short moan and pain following it. "It's okay, I know how," she replied in my helpless attempt at speech. "This way. You'll need your pickaxe."  
She started in the direction of the indestructible doors, her hair flowing effortlessly at her ankles. She beckoned me with her hand. I put the flashlight in my mouth, gripping it with my teeth to keep it from falling, careful not to break it in my mouth. I hoisted up the pickaxe with my only arm on my shoulder, following Di'la.  
We stopped at the indestructible doors, "You have the honors." I already knew what to do. I spat out the flashlight where it fell to the ground, casting light on the massive, gray metal doors that would lead us to our escape. I swung the pickaxe with immense speed, denting the doors and deafened myself with the clanging echo it gave off. I swung more and more, letting all my anger out on this restricting piece of metal.  
The thick metal tore after at least eight swings, revealing the insides of the contraption I've seldom seen for more than five seconds each month. The inside wasn't too much to take in, just a bright box with buttons and levers on the opposite side of the entrance. "Come on, let's get in." I followed Di'la through the demolished doors, stepping through what was my binding fears and into the world.  
A loud voice entered my ears that was definitely not Di'la's, "VALID IDENTIFICATION." "Valid"? How would I ever be valid? Maybe it was one of the Mine Master's belongings that let me through. Most likely his belt out of what I grabbed.  
I dropped my weapon in exhaustion from all the swinging I've done recently. "Push the top button and pull down the lever." I pushed the button and pulled the lever. Familiar whirring noises accompanied the view of my prison falling from view. If this let them travel up and down, then my initial thought of Mine Masters being destroyed and born instantly in here was completely wrong.  
I slumped down against the wall, still in shock of what I never thought I was capable of and what I never thought I'd do. All this stress and tenseness I've grown all too familiar with faded from my nerves and muscles, letting me slip into unconsciousness. Black consumed everything.


	2. Earth's Downfall, Orth's Exodus

Earth maybe exploded. Maybe it wasted away under all the gasses the original humans let their machines give off. Maybe it was the case that it was swallowed by the expanding sun. No one really knows what happened. No pure human had an absolutely sure theory of what would happen when their ancestors left.  
The Earth was in so much danger, no one was completely certain what the destruction was that would lead to the humans' death. That's why the humans aware of what would happen soon evacuated in the Samaritan, traveling light years away from their home planet, Earth.  
Samaritan was a hand engineered spacecraft made by the most brilliant anti-cyberspace scientists, the ones who led this called themselves Johnnie Doeman and Kory'ama Bleach. They gathered other anti-cybers, people who didn't believe that living in a bed attached to cyberspace and being fed by tube was productive or worthy of attention or time.  
Samaritan took off on an unmarked day, no one bothered to use calendars at that time, though the anti-cyber humans used day-night cycles to track their activities.  
The humans landed on Orth generations later on the planet we know as Orth. The conditions were very suitable for what they were originally accustomed to living in.  
Soon after learning about the land and what food they could eat, the Pigmerum, so the humans called them, brought some of them to their own civilizations. Pigmerum lived in tribes based on their fur color, the yellow-furred Pigmerum lived with their own, as the blue-furred and red-furred. The Pigmerum tribes kidnapped other tribes' members with a different fur color and forced them to be slaves. The yellow-furred Pigmerum were the usual targets of these scenarios, evolving their natural strength.  
The humans who chose to not to live with them established their own colony somewhere in the Echo Hemisphere, the side of Orth that is mostly ocean and small islands.  
Echo Hemisphere receives its name from legends of people traveling out into it hearing voices and seeing things familiar to them, creating a "time echo" around the victims. Stories of time echoes happen within the Echo Hemisphere when the victim went through a traumatic experience or intense mood swings. Time echoes usually drive the victim insane, causing them to attempt to kill or harm themselves or anything that comes in contact with them.  
Moving on, the Pigmerum and humans found that crossbreeding had successful results of humanlike children being born with some exaggerated features and hair color that could be labeled "unnatural" to pure human standards. The Pigmerum soon died off from age and became extinct from lack of popularity of having one-species offspring. Having "hybrid children" was a trend until they completely populated the planet centuries later. This time was called the 'hybrid era.'  
And now, here we are, on Orth, in this society based on natural hair pigment. Blue as the highest class, where they can control the country and do whatever they please. The lowest class is yellow, where they live in the slums or work as low-paid workers.  
"What about green?"  
"Green? Those don't exist, or at least they shouldn't."  
"Why?"  
"You seriously don't know? They can obtain a rare supernatural power that could eventually lead to our own destruction."  
"What is that power?"  
"What I know, their power is exaggerated immensely from what their parents were able to do. That's all we know. Actually, there was a green-haired man at the beginning of the 'hybrid era,' he almost destroyed a few cities before he was put to death. So why don't you know about this? Were you just put in the school system or something?"  
"Actually, I was."  
"What's your name, kid?"  
"Edward Murfajje."  
"That's a high-class name, why don't you know all this?"  
"I was homeschooled forever."  
"And you're just now going to private school?"  
"I guess so."


	3. Red Hair, Blue Eyes

Being a tourist is tiring. Walking around everywhere with the dumbstruck look of wonder and amazement starts to hurt after a while. I've already seen this small continent a few too many times. I'm here for a job with a co-worker, I'll be on my way when I'm done.  
The air around us is moist, indicating possible rain soon. I view past the tour group, the city still dead with activity. We could finish the tour of the city ruins soon and explore the witch academy with another group and pick up a gift. The group follows the tour guide to a field overgrown with shrubs and wild plants where in the middle of it all, what might be a ruined country house. It might have been a country house in the middle of nowhere at first, but the city life just had to roll in next to it.  
"The mansion we're about to come upon was a blue Pigmerum family home used in the early hybrid era built by their yellow slaves. If you see this insignia here right next to the inscription, you can tell it was slave-made. The inscriptions can't be translated, but archaeologists think it must be the date the house was finished or the original owner's family name." The tour guide dully states at the entrance of a large, gray, burned down, stone house. A part of the tour ground, one of many. "The mansion was burned by rebellious slaves who worked in the kitchen and the garden..." Ramble, ramble, blah, blah, blah. I've heard stories like this before, most Pigmerum mansions were destroyed unless the neighbors were better behaved or the slaves better disciplined.  
I tilt my head to my co-worker, his eyes and ears still focused on the tour guide, "How about after this we break off to a witch academy tour to pick up a few things?"  
He turns his eyes to mine, "We both paid full price for this tour, I'm not leaving until it's done." He blinks his vision back to the tour guide, still explaining the house and its history, "Okay, maybe when he's finished with this whole house and what happened to it. I'm interested." He's such a pushover, it's adorable. The guide keeps droning on about the house, boring me. I stare to the side of the house and start spacing out, my eyes unblinking and my ears losing aim. I stare until I almost only see unrecognizable swirling grays.  
My shoulder is nudged, my trance breaks so suddenly. I flick my eyes to my co-worker, seeing his arm recede to his side and his concerned expression, "You okay?"  
"Yeah, just spaced out for a second." He furrows his brow deeper into his eyes, showing more concern. "I do this sometimes, it's not like I'm getting hypnotized." I try to keep my voice down, though my hushed tone stings him. His orange bangs fall in front of his face, shading his red eyes and some of his freckles from my irritated expression.  
"Well, sorry for my worrying," he adds back sarcastically. We both fix our gazes back to the tour guide, not wanting to interrupt anyone's focus.  
At the end of the long tour, I managed to gather quite a bit of pocket change and a thin book.

As tourists, we have to keep up the cliques and stay plain to not be so “noticeable” as my co-worker says. To keep up the cliques, we take pictures of a street and an alleyway dedicated to deceased family members. Stools and tables held pictures, portraits, journals, flowers, and sometimes carved candles or painted wood figures depicting animals from Earth, usually a rabbit, cat, or a beetle. In some parts of this continent, the candles, as I’ve researched, are for different blessings based on the color scheme. The wooden figures usually symbolize wisdom, purity, balance and good passing.  
One specific place set out that caught our attention was a wrinkled Wanted poster of a man most people know of without reading his name. The poster was nailed to the wall over a sword in a white sheath on the ground. The sword and sheath were bound in a confusing knot of green string, keeping any tempted hands off of it, not that anyone would want it. The illustrated man’s dark skin tone and red-eye combination were mostly found on the island of Duyal in the Echo Hemisphere, his spiky yellow hair and eye shape easily gave away who he was. The bottom left corner read, “May he rot in Orth and Hell in pieces for his crimes” in permanent marker.  
He was banished from Duyal and had a forbidden child on the banishment island. He, the mother, and the child were executed for that. It’s in the newer history books showing just how aware the world’s governments have become as a whole.  
We stare at it in disgust, so surprised it’s right in front of us. My co-worker disgraced it even more,“Never thought this guy would have his picture still up. Should’ve been torn down by now, but I’m not touching that.”  
Nothing else was around his picture and weapon, everything keeping its distance from the end of the alleyway. No one put a candle or wooden figure next to his sword, scared it won't work or might become cursed. We strode in silence out of the alleyway and back into the street past the stools with long-gone beloveds’ memories and wishes.  
The candles and figures kept appearing from humble houses to the prideful internet store we walked into. Website connection cards on every display rack, cameras, and microphones filling shelves next to hidden cameras disguised as glasses, bracelets, pens and other accessories I didn’t think could actually multitask as a camera until now.  
“Do you think they have computers here to use?” My co-worker asks, scanning the area for a possible cluster of computers open to the public.  
“If they’re selling computers, chances of having free-use computers are quite low, my good sir,” I say with an exaggerated tip of my nonexistent hat out of the blue, referencing an inside joke. I couldn’t help it. He gets it immediately, trying to stifle a wide grin.  
He continues, “Kind man, if you insist we purchase one of these internet devices in this store, I respectfully decline. I propose that we travel to a facility where we may use a computer free of charge or purchase,” he pauses to bow extremely low and looks back up to me with a smug face, “my good sir.”  
“I take you up on that offer, sir. But might I suggest we at the very least purchase a tourist website for professional facts and opinions on what to visit while we travel this continent? My good sir.”  
We searched the few information website racks until we found what we were looking for. We bought the website connection and headed on our way to scavenge for a free computer-use building.  
I brought out the paper map from my messenger bag hanging from my shoulder and quickly unfolded it. I soon found our position on the map and turned it upright, finding routes to what could be the local “Academy for the Naturally Gifted” or whatever it’s called. But to find tour times would be a challenge since only one of us has a phone that recently died. And I don’t mean me.  
We pursued onward to find a library or a public computer center, searching the streets. After what seemed like an eternity searching, but according to my watch the searching and asking took only twenty-seven minutes, we finally came to the only library in the city, a massive three-story steel building with the city’s flag reaching towards the heavens on a noticeably decorated flagpole. It could have easily been mistaken for a fortress.  
The glass doors slid open to aisles of high-reaching bookshelves and beautiful life-size sculptures next to a banquet table just for readers. Where the average adult couldn’t reach on a shelf, railed platforms extended up from the floor to the higher shelves and reached across from the beginning to the end of each aisle. The high ceiling was decorated with strategically placed chandeliers and mobiles, the air smelled obviously of paper with a slight tang of metal.  
This was only the first level with no computers in sight. We quietly scurried to the far right where a flight of stairs connected to the second story, not wanting to disturb anyone’s peace and wandering imagination.  
As we fully ascended the steep steps, we came upon more shelves, but the middle floor gave way to the sagging ceiling decor protected by rails covered in exotic flowers and ivy, beckoning tourists and others with a sharp eye close. A sign labeled with a circled computer directed us with an arrow through a doorway to just what we needed.  
Rows of computers filled half of the room, but of course, there were desks to the left for people with other devices, an aisle separating the two sections. The computers all faced away from the windows on the opposite side of the room, letting us see what websites the computer users had bought and used.  
My co-worker makes his way to an empty desk to fully recharge his phone while I make mine towards a vacant computer in the first row to use the newly-bought website to search for the “witch academy” as I would rather call it.  
I inserted the new website card into one of the many side computer slots and connected my internet ID to the website, letting it automatically notify me of all my missed telemail. None. That was a good sign. I searched up “ward warlock academy for the naturally gifted” for anything about Ward Warlock Academy that could be useful to get into the school to pick up something very specific. Eventually, I found a building layout leading me to where I might need to go for pickup later.  
I love my summer job, getting valuables in icon schools gives me just enough to keep us both in business, but it’s mostly for me. The adventure of escaping as someone entirely different from what others think of me as. But then it allows me true knowledge apart from what the government wants the population to know. And now I’m seen as a conspiracy nut to my customers. All those forgotten relics fall away from low-maintenance museums too easily and usually undetected until someone finally mentions it. Pieces of notable history professionally blot out the people working in the shadows to make everything move. And I will be the one to shine light into the attention-deprived dark and show the world how the strings are really being pulled. This “warlock academy” has always seemed overly cautious of who they accepted in, so it’s my personal job to see what’s up.  
I find information on its founding and other basic facts, “Founded by Ros’nea M. Ward, in 658 HE (Hybrid Era), opened to the public in 662 HE, Ros'nea led the first four years as headmaster, the first student to graduate was Berrus Aabcrene, etcetera, etcetera. The wait between founding the school and opening it up is much longer than the usual wait. A four-year wait is too long unless you did something really big right after founding it.  
I look at other iconic things about the school, a nymph attended this school, the student's name was Immaih Alldrys. That’s a high-up blue family Black Tower name. Meeting a nymph is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but this nymph was part of a Black Tower family. A White or even Grey Tower family letting their child go to an academy like this would be such an honor. But a Black Tower family allowing that is way too amazing to go unnoticed! The core class grades were average, but her Ability Studies and Natural Talent Training grades were almost straight aces. Her student picture was better than any of mine with my distracting hair over tan skin, making me appear more masculine than I would like as a tomboy.  
I was getting distracted. I have to do further research on the school, not the students. The school has dorms, so it’s a boarding school… Recently found proof of destroyed hidden tunnels and rooms… Lawsuits… Foreign leaders’ children...Part of the campus burned down once... Theorized satanic sacrifices of animals… Nothing else out of the ordinary.  
So, I will be searching for secret tunnels and satanic matter during the school tour. Sounds like one of those old Earth movies about finding an ancient treasure that could’ve been a hoax but turned out to be real. I have ideas on what to look for, demonic crystals or markings on a wall. No one would be trying to compete with me for the treasure or tracking me down, so I think I’ll be much safer than the people in those types of movies.  
I find the tour times, at last, the tours are three times a day, and we just missed the third, finally realizing the time. I look up from the monitor, only two people are in this room, my co-worker asleep at his table and me. He’s so cute when he sleeps.  
I look out the windows at the end of the room, the sun started to lower, casting lustrous shades of blues, grays, purples, and pinks over the horizon. I realized we stayed over an hour at the library now, the research swallowed my sense of time. The city would settle down and remain still, except for security and people getting high off all sorts of soda. Thinking of soda, we should finish off that Kowald I have in my hotel room soon. We should be getting on our way.  
“The library will be closing in one hour. The computer room will be closing soon.” The gentle voice over the intercom wakes my co-worker, stretching his legs out under the table and his arms reaching out in fists in front of him, also stretching.  
I pull the website card out of the slot in the computer as the monitor transitions to the screensaver of three-dimensional words spinning, Central Library. Why call it central if it’s the only library in the whole city? I put the card back into my bag and slung it over my shoulder, “C’mon, Kuri’Shii.”  
We exited the library without any of the few people still there seeming to care or glimpse at us. That was good for us. We would go through the night unnoticed. “So Allin, do you know what we’re looking for?”  
I tighten my red ponytail, confident in my strategies. “I at least have an idea.”  
The heist is on.


	4. Going Somewhere

Warm air blows all around me and the ground is softer than I'm used to, my mind taking in the unfamiliar circumstances I'm in as I wake from my drowsy state.  
I snap my eyes open to see where I am. What I see is something fluffy and green covering the ground, this must be the grass that one Mine Master mentioned once.  
I unsteadily attempted to rise from the grassy ground, careful not to hit my head on the... ceiling? I don’t hit my head, there is no ceiling. All there is above me is vacant and speckled black. The white dots should be stars if my memory serves me right. I've only seen a small portion of the night sky before from holes continuing to the surface that allow me to breathe. I only saw blacks and greys, never anything else. But I've never seen the big silver orbs up in the sky until now. The sky shimmers like diamonds but in greater number and otherworldly beauty.  
I would have expected to wake up in the mine in my cramped sleeping area, but the mine is literally below me now. I wouldn't be waking up in that miserable place anymore. I’m free from that silencing madhouse now that I escaped, but where would I go? I don’t know anything about the world from my own experience, though I’m sure I’ll find somewhere safe to go.  
I find footing and look around, there's a shadow in front of me. I turn around, the elevator is behind me a way away shining its light, my pickaxe still in there.  
Where's Di'La? She should be here with me. Maybe she got lost out here or found somewhere to go. But why would she leave me?  
I was alone. Silence was everywhere besides the wind. But I think that's better than being yelled at by someone made to hurt you. Since I was alone, all I could do now was get my pickaxe and start going somewhere. So I grabbed my pickaxe and headed the direction the gentle wind blew from into my face.   
Seemed to be the best thing to do.


	5. MARS!

Moonlight illuminated the dark halls through the tall windows. The night always gives the best cover on a new moon, if only there was such a thing with four moons. Security’s in every wing of the school, all headed towards me.  
Getting out of the school would be more difficult than it was getting in now that the security guards on duty have been alerted of my presence. The stinging pain in my left leg grows bit by bit as I continue running for my life and the unexpectedly heavy loot in my arms. It could have been lighter if it wasn’t real glass, but it always had to be. My steel-toed shoes thud against the stone floor as I race through the halls to my escape. If only I was as quiet as I was fast.  
Blood slowly starts to dampen my camouflage cargo pant leg as I keep active in my escape. I see a flight of stairs leading to the lower level at the end of the corridor.  
Running out of breath. Hard to breathe.  
I slow and pull up my mask to help me breathe easier. I head down the stairs as fast as I could without falling or being caught, skipping every other step and running like a decapitated chicken barely clinging to life.  
Distant yelling.  
Security.  
I pull back down my mask with a gloved hand, still cradling the valuable item in the other arm and running furiously. I find windows lining the walls of the corridor as I turn the corner. Looking out the windows, I could tell this was the second floor, I could make the jump outside. No one was out there. Man, school security really has to step up its game sometime soon.  
Running footsteps. Multiple.  
The alerted guards found me, all of them heading straight towards me. I could hear their guns being cocked and their yelling from behind me in the tile hall. I’m fast, but not fast enough to dodge a bullet.  
I make a jump to the closest window, clutching the fragile item in my arms and legs, protecting it. I crash through the window, into the night. Glass shards spin everywhere as I break the window, bullets zoom above me as I fall.  
I stretch my feet to the ground in midair, bracing my fall. Guns still trained on me, I run, and run, and run. The thin bulletproof bodysuit under my pants and hoodie take some of the fire as my plan mostly goes well.  
The parking lot is a good twelve-ish yards away, a few patrol vehicles parked out front and I’m well informed about the cameras on the cars’ hoods. While I’m still running and cradling a precious crystal ball, I reach into the pocket on my pants where I put the window smashers and pull one out.  
Police would usually suspect I have a store-bought weapon, but the unspoken fact states they don’t get easily assaulted by a homemade weapon, especially a jumbo bouncy ball punctured by sharpened 4-inch nails. Custom-made weapons is my game when you can’t trace where it came from. Forget the weapons dealer when you can make a window smasher from toy store and hardware store basics.  
It’s a trend for kids with too much spare change, such as myself, to go into a store and pick one or more vending machines to use all of their change on to buy as many dispensed toys or candy possible, the trend got the name “small thing speedrun” on social media, or STSR for short. Thanks to STSR, I could conveniently walk into a corner store and do that with big rubber balls in a goofy vending machine.  
I throw two window breakers at full speed to the nearest cop cars, successfully shattering two windshields. The jagged glass and window breakers should stall them long enough from the chase.  
Next thing I know I’m in a stolen vintage model BMW speeding off with the cops far behind. My injury comes back to my attention as I push down the accelerator, torture spreading through my leg. I glance through the passenger window to see Kuri’Shii’s little red plane in the sky watching like a guardian angel ready to literally come flying in to my rescue. If I need it, that is. He should be watching my movement through police cruiser lights.  
I comm in to him by walkie talkie, “Coming back to home base. Be there ASAP for my arrival. Over.” His plane veers towards the direction of the harbor. I sometimes let my mind wander too far and imagine his plane being shot down in smoke and flames. No one would want to shoot down an itty-bitty plane they’ve only seen a few times just for the fun of it, but it could happen for some other reason. At least he isn’t a target for military missiles or warheads.  
I continue down the road, easily weaving through what little traffic there was this hour. At most, someone would think I’m just some stoned idiot desperate to get home by what I’m doing.  
The rental car is still sitting near the harbor where we left it. I ditch the BMW next to a plane smothered in brands.  
I limp as casually as I possibly can, (considering my current condition, it isn’t very casual) carrying the loot and myself to my second getaway. The walk seems to take forever as I listen to the distant waves striking the shoreline.  
My fears of going to jail for the second time cease as I shut the door of the car and start the engine. As the engine roars, I sigh in relief and gently place the crystal ball in the backpack behind the driver’s seat. I finally rip the mask and hoodie off before pulling out of the harbor’s parking area. The heist was over, the only thing to do now is to get back to my hotel room. Gotta get out of here and on to the road quick.  
The road was still almost deserted apart from late-shifters, taxi drivers and densely-packed cars which I automatically think as sober-driving-the-drunk carpools. The cops wouldn’t be able to find me now that I swapped out cars and went an entirely different direction. Since the cops would still probably be trying to track down the car I sped off in, it’s a good idea to switch rides then be civil to prevent being pulled over and found out. Not being civilized at the best times is what I do, but on the road is more about the safety of yourself and others and being polite enough to not get arrested or yelled at by another driver.  
The dark freeway continues on and on with nothing in sight besides the asphalt road surrounded on both sides by grass or dirt.  
I let my mind wander to what I’ll do with the crystal ball once I get back home. I could use it to tell vague fortunes to gullible customers for some big bills. Maybe sell it to some hot-shot psychic looking for a genuine omen teller that could tell the world what to stop doing like getting drunk then driving themselves into wrecks. Then the question comes to my mind, is it worse to drive while drunk or underage? Reminds me of when I would sit in the driver’s seat of my dad’s fancy car in the driveway and pretend to be driving. He wouldn’t mind unless I honked the horn. That horn was loud. His yelling was louder. His slaps hurt, but it taught me to not play around in his car. The slaps taught me to leave his things alone. I found a pocket knife under his pillow once, I cut my finger on the blade.  
WHAT!?  
I swerve. “MARS!”  
Was that a person? Did I hit him? Is he okay? I was so scared for myself and the person I possibly hit. Breathing heavily, eyes wide.  
It looked like a person, but it didn’t. All I could tell is that it was green and yellow, tall-ish. It couldn’t be a person. It couldn’t!  
The headlights shone bright in the dark, illuminating only grass barely beyond the edge of the road in front of me. No one was there. I look around through all the windows, I couldn’t see anything but the black of night. He’s probably on the ground in pain way worse than me. I open the car door and run around the car to find something I never thought I would see in my entire life.  
This person was standing, no injury. Ragged clothes, only a left arm, holding a pickaxe, bracing position. Covered in black smears and smudges on sickly pale skin. Red eyes, so fearful.  
Green hair.  
I couldn’t move. My mouth gaped open. There shouldn’t be a green-haired person on this planet. So why do I see one right in front of me?  
This person expressed confusion as well, hesitating to move, trembling. Their breaths were quick, the arm lowering slowly, unsure. Their wrist and neck were bound by matching thick metal cuffs. Only the neck cuff’s light glowed dimly.  
This person must have been kept from society’s eyes for a long time if… she was in her teens.  
My shock hadn’t passed, but I was calmer than before. “Are-” I didn’t know what to do or say. But I think I knew what she wanted to hear. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” I put my hands up meaning no harm, slowly approaching. She raised her pickaxe at me, eyes wider. I stopped. This chick didn’t know what I was saying. “I come in peace.” She didn’t put down her weapon. She didn’t know what peace was. What was I saying this to, an alien?  
Sign language it was, then. “I,” I point to myself, “will not,” I wag a finger. I glance to where her right arm would be, finding an idea of what to do with my hands, “hurt,” I karate chop the air in a downwards motion, she flinches, “you.” I point to her.  
I repeat the motions and words, “I, will not, hurt, you.” She reluctantly lowered her pickaxe to the ground. She rose back up, her expression confused. She pointed to me, wagged her finger, karate chopped the air, and pointed to herself.  
“Not… hurt,” she said back hoarsely.  
She must know what I’m saying now. “Yes! I will not hurt you.”  
She helplessly moaned for a second, she blushed and looked to the ground.  
Now I realized what the lights were for on her cuffs. They were ability depressors. She was probably mute and weak her entire life. I needed to bring her back to the hotel with me.  
I walked towards her, slowly bent down keeping her eye contact, and grabbed her pickaxe and rose. She didn’t know what I was going to do with this. I flipped it bottom-up, “I will not hurt you.” I reached for her shoulder, she let me. “Let’s go.”  
I led her gently to the passenger seat of the car. “You’re gonna be okay.” I shut the door and got back behind the wheel. I buckled her seatbelt since she obviously hasn’t seen one before, and I fastened mine. I felt like a mother.  
“Allin, where are you?” The walkie talkie. Kuri’Shii! “Allin, do you copy?” His tone was concerned, even nervous.  
I picked it up from the floor of the car, “Yeah, I’m here. There’s just been a delay because…” How would I say it? “I found someone.” Green girl’s face was completely surprised and amazed. I was talking to a box and she didn’t know why.  
“Did you find a drunk kid again?”  
Finding a drunk kid on the side of the road was not uncommon for me, “No, it’s not a drunk kid. It’s… someone else. I’ll explain when I get back. Over.”  
“I’m just glad you’re okay. Over and out.”  
I look to green girl, her face contorts confusion about what just happened. I try to explain it to her, “He’s glad,” I cup my hands over my chest, “I’m,” I point to myself, “okay.” I give a thumbs-up. She seems to get it by her head slowly nodding after raising her eyebrows.  
She gives me a thumbs-up and a little smile. That’s so cute!  
“And I’m glad you’re okay.” She’s learning already.  
And we drive off to the safety of my hotel room. This girl needs a shower and a haircut.


	6. I'm Going to Help You

My hands are still shaking. I don't know this person, this person doesn't know me, and I'm going somewhere in a metal box with her. Dark blurs rush past the see-through parts of the box. The red person in black keeps repeating strange things like, "We are going to a hotel where Kuri'Shii is." I don't know what "a hotel" or "Kuri'Shii" is, but hotel must be a somewhere and Kuri'Shii must be a someone by the way she talks about them.  
Di'La lounged in the back of the box as we continued on the long, dark path. She was as unsure of the situation as me while twiddling her thumbs as she watched the blurs speed by. Has she been in one of these before?  
"By the way, I'm Allin," the red-and-black person spoke slowly. She did it again! I'm not dumb enough to not know basic speech! Although she's speaking strangely, I'm learning what her words mean by how she uses them. If only I could find out what's going on and why she's taking me to whatever the hotel is.  
Her name is Allin. My name is Hanko. We both have names, she's the second person I know who has a name. Does everyone have a name? It must be common to have a name.  
Di'La spoke up from the back, "I just realized this. If her name is Allin, then does that mean her first initials are K.M. and 'G.G.'? She must like dark poetry!" She burst out laughing hysterically. "Then my name means beyond! And Hanko means a stamp! I am beyond comprehension and Orth!" She couldn't stop. I didn't get what any of that meant. If any of what she said was supposed to mean anything specific, I didn't know about it.  
"Hanko- Hanko, stamp your name on this car!!" Half of the things she ever says is nonsense to me.  
I twisted around to see if Di'La was running out of breath or changing colors by any chance. She was, but also crumpled up on her side, twitching from the continuous laughter.  
"Hey, what is it? Is something behind us?" Allin asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she glanced at me. I turned to her, pointing to Di'La, who was finally calming down from her hysteria. Alin looked in the small reflective object in front of her, "That's the road behind us, there's nothing there."  
What!? Even she doesn't acknowledge Di'La's presence! How can she not hear her howling in the back? Does Di'la really blend in that well with her surroundings to everyone else? Maybe it's just the people I've encountered so far who can't see her. Or maybe I just have to find the right person.

Green Girl and I kept on driving on through the night for a little while longer until we stopped at the hotel. The silence lasted through the rest of the car ride, Green Girl appeared to be memorizing every detail of the back of the car as she twisted backward and forwards in her seat. Pain still lingered in my leg, but keeping my poker face was something so familiar to me from so many years of extensive learning.  
We arrived at the parking lot of the hotel. I unfastened our seatbelts and reached into my backpack, "Here, put this on." I tossed Green Girl the blue cosplay cloak I've been saving for a convention. She snatched it in midair, examining it. She scrunched her brow together. She barely understands anything about the world and how it works, but I expected her to at least know how to put on a cloak.  
I fastened the cloak around her shoulders. When I looked up at her, her eyes were bright and curious. To be fair, wearing a cloak is pretty fun, especially for the first time. I yanked the hood over her head, "Don't take this off until I say so." She nodded once and watched as I started preparing to get out of the car.  
I attempted to stuff her pickaxe into my backpack to make it inconspicuous. But since it was so big, the backpack bulged suspiciously and looked like it was about to tear where the blade's tip met the fabric and the handle couldn't be hidden due to the fact that it was so long. I knew this wouldn't work well. I unpacked the pickaxe and slid it under the driver's seat. I jammed it in as far as possible hoping no one on the outside would notice the worn stick poking out of the bottom of the seat.  
I hopped out of the car and circled around to Green Girl's side. I opened her door, holding my extended hand to her, "Come on." She hesitated, staring at my hand with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. She briskly grabbed my hand and used it to pull herself to her feet in one swift motion. She wobbled a bit on her feet like she had stood up too fast. She immediately cast her gaze down to the ground and I began leading her through the parking lot by the hand.  
I tried to cross through the motionless parking lot as fast as my feet would take me so no one would notice, but there wasn’t really a point since only metal, concrete and asphalt watched me and Green Hair pass by. The hotel’s doors slid open to reveal the brightly lit lobby. The reception desk sat to the far left of the elevators opposite us. I glanced over to the receptionist, he was slouching in his chair reading one of the thickest books I’ve ever seen. He was at least halfway through the story from what I could see at this distance. Who has enough time to read that much? I know I sure don’t.  
Because there were only us and the receptionist in the lobby, we successfully crossed all the way to the elevators without anyone staring or noticing.  
I pushed the button for floor 3, and when the elevator finally arrived, I dragged her inside. I noticed Green Girl began shaking as the elevator rose, her eyes darting side to side, absorbing everything she could like she was searching for something, she seemed so anxious. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable here. Just how I was before Kuri’Shii came into my life.  
As memories from the past started flooding into my mind, I started tearing up. I had to help her as much as I could, I didn’t want her to have to suffer in a similar way that I did. I embraced her in my arms, she had obviously suffered enough already, much more than I’ve ever had. She suddenly became very still, and I tried my best to not start sobbing.  
“You’re not going back. Wherever it was, it obviously wasn’t a good place. So I’m going to help you.” I whispered as tears blurred my vision. The tears began to stream down my face. “I promise I will.”  
She held me tightly, it was suffocating, but peaceful as well. I couldn’t cry, the habit of holding my emotions back was working too well, and this moment wasn’t helping me break it. I felt pressure surrounding my waist, I looked down. It was Di’La joining in, droplets silently leaking from where I would assume her eyes would be. These people are able to cry for me when I can’t. How long have I been treated so horribly that I’ve forgotten how to cry?  
The wall in front of us opened up to a hallway with a ding. It was full of vibrant colors and patterns that were harsh on my eyes, neon yellow stripes and bright red spots and other color combinations I would rather not describe. The lights above us blinded me, paralyzing me from movement. Allin uncurled her arms from around me and brought then up to her face, wiping away her tears.  
“Follow me.” She ordered, motioning for me to follow as she exited the claustrophobia-inducing box and strode down the bright hallway. The hall wasn’t anything I’ve experienced, the air was slightly colder than to what I was used to, and the smells were everywhere ranging from foul to clean. I followed her feet as best as I could until she turned and stopped.  
I could hear a click, a metallic turning, and a creak when I saw the wall open up to a wall of darkness in front of Allin. She entered the darkness and made a motion like she was lifting something. There was a click and then a sudden light flooded out of the dark, mixing with the light in the hall. She immediately entered the new brightness.  
I didn’t know whether to follow her or wait. I hesitated, looking up into the brand-new room. Everything was completely foreign to me. The door stayed open, Allin looked to me, probably disappointed.  
“Come on, before someone sees you.” I guess I had to follow her, so I entered the room on command. Everything was still brightly colored, but there was a scheme to it now. There were warmer colors on everything with small cool accents. The whole place was systematic. Allin closed the door behind me as I entered, maybe she’s furious by now because I didn’t follow right after her.  
She looked back at me. I cast my gaze to the ground by reflex. But then, she said she was going to help me, so I don’t need to keep doing this. I slowly gazed up into her eyes, still unsure of everything around me.  
She strode in my direction slowly. My shoulders tensed, thinking of the worst that’s happened.  
She grasped the cuff around my wrist and brought it up to examine it. I tried to relax, but I still couldn’t think of anything to comfort myself with. She turned it, seeing every detail. She let go.  
“Okay, I think I can get those off. Just give me a second to unpack.” She strode past me to the other side of the room to a large lumpy thing with some structure and sat on it. She took the bag off her back and opened the top and reached inside with both hands. She picked up something clear and round, dropping it next to her. She opened another part of the bag and pulled out what looked like a pocket knife from the distance I was from her.  
My mind raced with questions about every bit of where I was and what all of this is. In one motion Allin tossed the pocket knife beside her and pulled up her pant leg while pulling her leg close to her. Did something happen to her?  
“Mother Earth!” She yanked off her shoes and dirty white socks, one now turning red.  
Blood is going everywhere. I rip off my socks and sprinted to the bathroom. I raised my bleeding leg to the sink, turning on the cold water to rinse it. I winced as the water stung my wound, my face grimacing.  
When all the blood was washed down, I yanked my leg down and reached straight to the cabinet mounted on the wall. I pulled the door open.  
Soap, more soap, hairdryer, first-aid kit! Thank all intelligence on this planet that there were first-aid kits in hotel bathrooms! Pulling myself up on the sink and the first-aid kit down from the cabinet, I started to dress the gash with the antibiotic. The pain of medicine felt heavenly as I looked at the menacing slash. Rummaging through the kit again, I found a bandage roll and a gauze package.  
While dressing the wound with a gauze and wrapping the bandage, I heard hurried footsteps coming toward my room.  
“Hide!” Green Girl immediately took a quick search and scrambled behind the bed.


	7. Some Introduction, Hot-Shot

Three quick knocks. Adrenaline rushed through me, tensing, getting ready for what was on the other side of the door. The police, maybe?  
“Allin, are you okay?” It was Kuri’Shii’s voice on the other side of the door.  
I gave a big sigh of relief, releasing the built-up stress, “Yeah, just an injured little damsel here. Just a second.”  
I limped over to the door and opened it for him. His face was filled with worry that soon disappeared when he saw me. As he walked in, he found the dressed gash on my leg, “What did you do!?” His concern reappeared and increased by the second.  
“Calm down, I’m not dying. Someone left their pet out in the hall.” That wasn’t exactly what happened, but that was as straight-forward and abridged I could make the story to save time. He still looked at me with those worried red eyes. “Hey, at least I know first-aid.”  
“Yeah,” his expression softened to slight concern, “you said you found someone on the side of the road.”  
I immediately recalled that I told him that when I found Green Girl, remembering the intense fear in her eyes. “I did.”  
I remembered that Green Girl wasn’t the trusting type of person, and she was a complete abnormality compared to what we’re both used to. No, to what everyone was used to. He wouldn’t understand.  
I hushed my voice, “Just so you aren’t completely shocked about who this is, she’s gone through a ton. I barely know who she is, or how she got here, or why she… why she’s even alive. So, just… bear with me she isn’t exactly…” I tried to find the right word, “normal.” That sounded like I was talking about an abused member of a circus troupe with an ostracism-worthy ability. “You wouldn’t see this kind of person anywhere in public. Without a disguise or something.” I’m making this even more difficult.  
His expression contorted into confusion and utter disgust, not knowing what to expect. “Is she a member of a traveling cult group?”  
I didn’t even think of that. “No! She isn’t part of a cult! I don’t know anything besides she was…”  
I can’t find any more words. I didn’t want to keep playing this guessing game with no answer he would even guess closely to or understand. I couldn’t believe it myself at first when I saw her on the dark road.  
“I’ll just show you.”  
Walking over to the bed Green Girl hid behind, Kuri’Shii followed, hopefully preparing for what he was going to see. Still nervous, I held out my hand to him, gesturing to keep his distance. I crouched at the corner of the bed facing Green Girl, who was curled up in a ball against the bed in the fetal position, protecting her hooded head with her only arm.  
Like she was bracing for a horrible punishment.  
“Hey, you can stop now.” She looked up from her knees, eyes wide with uncertainty. “He isn't going to hurt us.” Knowing him, that's obvious, but his height could say otherwise.  
I gently pulled her hand away from her head and stood her up. The hood still loomed over her face, so I pulled it off, exposing all her green hair and her pale, noticeably edged face. Both of us looked to Kuri'Shii, finding a shock on his face, completely not expecting filthy blackish-green hair. His face grew almost full-blown fuchsia. What’s with his face?  
His mouth hung open silently. He’s speechless. He closed his mouth and looked to the floor, realizing what he was doing. I realized he wasn’t going to do anything until someone else did something first.  
So I acted, “Could you maybe help me get these ability depressors off her? ‘Cause that would really help right now.”  
He cleared his throat and broke his gaze from the floor and focused on me, “Uh, yeah.” His face leveled to its original color, I didn’t know his face could do that. “I think I know what to…” he twirled his finger in the air, “getting... materials.” Still in shock.  
He turned a full one-eighty and marched robotically out the door, closing it quickly. I could hear him in the back of my mind just slumping against the door and taking in a deep sigh of relief. But I didn’t hear it.

Closing the door, I could still feel my face burning. She wasn’t absolutely anything I thought she would be. Nothing I thought of initially had anything to do with green hair and red eyes. If I didn’t get out soon enough, I would've started up my embarrassing cross between a moan and a whimper in front of them.  
I let out a brief sigh of relief.  
Materials! Allin needs materials to get that collar off of that girl’s neck. Walking down the bright hall to my hotel room, I kept thinking about the way she looked at me. It reminds me of myself, the way her fear shifted into curiosity. Just thinking of that makes my face burn up again. I opened the door to my room, the extra-clean loneliness.  
Why did I even suggest we get different rooms? This separates us and puts more money on the weekly stay price. And now with this new girl, that’s going to make our stay even more complicated. We would have to bring food up to her, and she shouldn’t be cooped up in that room all the time. She’s probably hungry right now. What if she has claustrophobia? She might not have any experience in human interaction. And then room service. And getting her outside when she needs it.  
This will definitely be a nightmare.  
It’s like a pet, you love it and you hate it at the same time once you know everything it needs and everything it does. Living by itself is expensive.  
I went through my backpack on the nightstand, maybe I could use Allin’s pocket knife? That might work. Shuffling through everything in the bag, I suddenly thought of wheelchairs. Why does my mind wanders to the most unrelated of things?  
I soon find the wire cutters in the front pocket and walk out of the room with them in hand. Now I’m thinking of the new girl again, how she would look in a cleaner appearance without the restraints. What would she sound like? Would she even want to talk?  
I near the door, hearing a quiet one-sided conversation muffled by the door. “Coming back in.” I hear footsteps and the door opens to Allin.  
“In, in.” She hurriedly pulls me into the room and shoves the door closed.  
“I found wire cutters. And I think your pocket knife will work too.”  
“Amen,” She reached into her pocket, pulling out her knife and tossing it into the air, I catch it flawlessly. “let’s go.”  
We strode over to the bed where the new girl sat.  
She didn’t have the cloak on. The shoulder facing me was just a hardly knotted sleeve. No arm. I turned around, sensing I was getting close to gagging.  
Allin met my gaze, “You okay?”  
I lowered my voice so only she could hear, “She- she doesn’t have an arm…” I could feel my hand trembling a bit.  
She lowered her voice, “Yeah. I was kinda grossed out too. Here’s my advice: just don’t look at it.”  
“...Okay.”  
Turning back around to the new girl, I forced my eyes to hers, wanting to make a better impression of myself. Her eyes darted straight down to the thick cuff on her wrist which I haven’t noticed until now due to the cloak she was wearing just a moment ago.  
She has one arm, another restraint, and then she's dangerously scrawny. How has she been keeping herself alive?  
Forcing my focus back on the task at hand, I decided to start with the thick collar. This could potentially be very deadly. A strip of fabric put under the collar would help protect her neck from being cut by the knife. I grabbed the pen in the breast pocket in my grey vest and unknotted my blue neck scarf, wrapping the scarf around the pen. I noticed she was staring at my neck where my tattoo was. I covered the tattoo with my free hand, “Could you lift your chin up?”  
She willingly obeyed as I gently pushed the wrapped pen in between her neck and the collar. Pushing the pen all the way through, I pulled the scarf halfway through to make sure there was enough slack to keep it in place. Flipping the blade out of the pocket knife, I began to cut the metal layer of the working collar, making sure to not use too much force.  
I glanced up at her face, she instantly caught my gaze. We have the same eye color. I cast my eyes back down to my work, seeing the metal was completely and chaotically cut.  
Grabbing the wire cutters, I began thinking about what she would sound like. Since she probably had never used her voice before, it would be perfectly preserved like a child’s. But her likely age would say otherwise. Maybe she sounds like a twelve-year-old.  
Finally, the wires, drives, and boards had all been cut and severed, I heard a raspy gasp from her. “Hold on, I’m not done yet,” I said, going back to cutting the last metal layer. I slowed my pace as I felt the metal layer coming to an end as it became easier to saw away. Clearly seeing the scarf through the messy opening in the collar, I slid it to the other side of her neck and moved around her to hack away at the metal again.  
“Since you can talk now, tell us about yourself.”  
A brief silence.  
I emphasized what I meant and asked away, “What’s your name?”  
“Han...ko.”  
I’ve never heard that name before. I don’t know if that even is a name. “How did you get that name?”  
“Di’La... gave me that name.”  
Another weird name. “Who’s Di’La?” Hanko didn’t say anything, “Is she your friend?”  
“Don’t… know.”  
Allin looked at me, “When I found her she had a pickaxe. They might have known each other while they were underground or something. But there wasn’t anyone with her when I found her.” Maybe they got separated.  
“Can you tell us anything about being underground?” There were so many questions I wanted to ask, and I was already forgetting a few.  
“Mine masters… and looking for… shiny things, and more.”  
“How long were you there?”  
Hanko’s eyes widened, “...Long time.”  
I looked to the tattered knotted fabric on her shoulder, wondering about how that happened. “How did you lose your arm?” I felt myself internally gag.  
She swallowed, her hand closing in a tight fist. “Cut,” her voice was choked up, “little bits… for being bad, and more.”  
I imagined how horrible that might have been, little parts of yourself being lost at a time, and eventually, nothing left. My face contorted from the possible horrors she experienced. I heard Allin quietly pull in a breath as I found her expression similar to mine. No point in saying “well, they can’t now.”  
I tried to change the tone of the conversation, “what happened before you were underground?”  
A long silence drowned out any word she might have spoken.  
“Don’t know.”  
I pulled the pieces of the collar apart as I finally finished my work. I started on the nonfunctional cuff around her wrist.  
“How did you get out?”  
“Killed Mine master. Di’La helped.”  
I can’t imagine how that could have gone. If she’d been an underground slave her entire life, all that silent frustration and fear might have overwhelmed her to the point of killing. I’m starting to get paranoid.  
“Who else was there with you underground?”  
“Mine masters and Di’La.”  
That’s a small workforce. “How many Mine masters were there?”  
“One leaves... another comes,” That’s a puny workforce. When someone’s shift was over after a while, another would take their place and enforce their own rules on Hanko. Not too efficient.  
I finished dismantling the cuff, “I think that’s enough about you now,” Allin sighed in the realization of what was about to happen. “My name is Kuri’Shii, you’re welcome.” I grinned my girl-getting smile and tied my scarf back around my embarrassing tattoo.  
Thunder started to rumble outside. Hanko jumped up in surprise, losing balance. I caught her, I could feel her breathing hard from the scare. “What’s that?”  
“That’s thunder. That means rain’s coming down soon.”  
Hanko’s expression tightened, staring at me with some form of confusion, completely not expecting that. “What’s rain?”  
“That’s when water comes down from the sky. Like I said before, you’re welcome.”  
She looked up at the ceiling, thinking about my name, obviously. She looked back at me, getting back to her feet. “Your name is…”  
“Kuri’Shii.”  
She processed that for a moment. “Ku… Shii?”  
I guess I have a nickname now. “You can call me that.”  
“Shii,” she pointed to me, “and..?” she pointed to Allin.  
“She’s Allin,” I stated.  
“Allin.” She repeated.  
“Some introduction, hot-shot,” Allin commented.  
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going back to my room. Lady Hanko.” I gave her a bow and left the room.

“What was that?” Hanko asked, pointing to the door Kuri’Shii left through.  
I replied, “I wish I knew. But right now, you need a shower and a change of clothes.” She doesn’t know what either of those are. I led her to the bathroom for a full course on cleanliness 101.

I closed the door to my hotel room, thinking about what just happened. Green hair, captivating red eyes, underground slave, killed, Mine master, cut, Di’La. Mixed signals of murder, innocence, and mystery about Hanko swam through my head, bombarding my every movement and sense.  
I need to calm down, I need a soda.  
I walked over to the mini-fridge and pulled out a can. I sat myself down on the bed and opened the soda, taking in the sound of the blissful fizzing and the rain outside.  
“Cheers.”


	8. My Iguana

“Okay, she’s clean, has a haircut and she has a few pairs of clothes.”  
“You got bad news?”  
“Actually, yes,” Kuri’Shii braced himself for the worst, “she isn’t growing her arm back any time soon.” His contorted expression forced a temporary grin onto mine. “In all seriousness, it looks like there are tons of whip scars on her back. She says they whipped her as a form of punishment and then started to cut off parts of her arm until there was nothing left.”  
I folded my arms, wondering why exactly they would hurt her so excessively. But at the same time, slaves were treated similarly. But as far as I knew, it usually never came to the scenario where limbs were cut off or they were forced mute. “That’s not unusual for slaves, but why such a little teenage girl?” He raised his tone with the word little.  
“Good question.”  
“Another question,” Kuri’Shii leaned forward and stared me straight in the face, “what kind of clothes are these?”  
“My clothes. She picked them out.” He furrowed his brow with concern, “My Mother Earth shirt, that pink skirt, with her little black belt and boots, and she’s not letting go of the cloak I lent her.”  
He knew what each of those looked like, maybe surprised she would have a sense of fashion that bad, especially since she doesn’t know what the term mother earth means. He broke out in a loopy smile, “sounds like some, uh, super-amateur cosplay project she’s got going on there.”  
I smiled too, “yeah.” He stayed silent with a distant look. I noticed there was a light shade of pink over his face and a bottle cap close to the wall behind him. “What happened to the fizz?”  
He turned his guilty eyes away, “I drank it.”  
“All of it?”  
He continued his sheepish look, twiddling his thumbs. “...Yeah.”  
I clutched my crossed my legs, disappointed and stunned, “that was for celebration.” I lightly tapped him on the shoulder with my fist. “That’s a no.”  
“Well, too late now.” His words slowed down, starting to choke on them.  
“What is it? Is something wrong?”  
He grasped his arms, scrunching his shoulders. “I don’t know.”  
“Is it all the shock of meeting her?” It wouldn’t be surprising if that was the reason, because I left the soda with him specifically because I trust that he doesn’t drink often.  
His eyes widened, unsure of himself. “I don’t know.” His eyes started to moisten up and his voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old girl who barely started her first period. All in spite of the clear fact that he’s an adult man. This is entirely out of character based on who I’ve known him as from our shared lives. I imagined he would start fanning his eyes soon enough. I stifled the possibility of a smile for the ridiculous irony.  
I could completely relate to not knowing why I cried many times in my life. Dropping the subject would be the best course of action. “How about you calm down and we can both check up on how Hanko’s doing, then I can search around on the web for a mechanic, does that sound okay?” I can play the role of the understanding Mother quite well.  
He sniffed, “okay.” His tears flowed down his face like a waterfall, his cheeks flushed.  
We entered my hotel room where Hanko sat on the bed trying to stuff her face with all sorts of food I retrieved for her from the mini fridge. She flicked her vibrant head to us. Her bright green hair curling out in every direction hovering over her shoulders with extremely slanted bangs; the best I could do without screwing up even worse than I already did.  
“There she is, prince charming.”  
He scanned her for a moment, both of them still. It became a staring contest. “You know what she needs?”  
I playfully frowned. “Don’t tell me it’s you.”  
“No. She needs an arm more than she needs me.” I practically said that in the other room.  
Hanko stared and swallowed her mouthful of food. “Mm?”  
Kuri’Shii took a deep breath, stumbling forward. “You, my iguana, are getting an arm.” Iguana?  
She barely managed the words, “...Have one.” Does either of them know what an iguana even is?  
“But you need another! Not just your...” he took a long moment to process as he analyzed her, “your left arm. That’s not enough for a pretty girl like you.” He started tearing up again.  
He was so trashed. Hanko stared at him with deep concern in her lack of motion.  
“Okay, that’s enough interaction for today. Go back to your room and sleep already.”  
“You go to your room.”  
“This is my cussin’ room. Getta yours, already.” I yanked the door open, shoving him out.  
“Allin-” I slammed the door in his face, not wanting to hear another word until he was sober.  
I sighed. I think a few of my friends have other friends who might be prosthetic mechanics. Kuri’Shii has a setup connection to some through a chip a friend sold us for cheap. But now wouldn’t be the best time for it.  
“Hanko, you’re sleeping in the bed tonight. It’s really late.” She furrowed her brow at me, eyes still wide open.

The next morning, I woke up on the floor wrapped in my extra blanket next to the window. I sat up to see how Hanko was doing, saying how difficult it was to get her to sleep in these conditions that were so alien to her. She’s so restless and curious.  
She was sound asleep, bunched up in the weightless sheets, so still. Of course, I didn’t remember the events from last night actually happened until I opened my eyes to the floor. Deep down, maybe I wanted all this to be some fantasy I would forget forever when I woke up. But at the same time, I wanted this to be real since my life had been interrupted by something miraculous I couldn’t have passed up.  
I looked at the nightstand, it was 8:37. That’s later than the usual time I wake up at, but the late night was our own faults. I’m glad I met her when I did.  
I want to help her.  
She needs me.  
I wanted to wake her, but then I thought, what if she’s never had anything like this before? She should have this time to sleep.  
I made myself presentable in a high ponytail and unwrinkled clothes that didn’t reek of blood and sweat before going to wake Kuri’Shii. The soda rush should have left his system by now.  
I knocked on his door, “You up yet?”  
Silence.  
I knocked again vigorously, remembering the nickname Hanko gave him. “Shii! Come ooon.” I kept knocking until he opened the door.  
His hair appeared unkempt and his face drooped and shadowed with exhaustion. “I’m up. What do you want?” He rubbed the sleep from his face.  
“I need your phone to find someone on MechaMen so fight club girl can get an arm soon.”  
“Fight...” he got the reference, “oh,” and he knew what I needed, “I know where it is.” He shut the door. A few seconds later, I heard something slide across the carpet floor. I looked down to see Kuri’Shii had slid his phone under the door. He probably wanted more sleep. I reached down and picked it up, trying to remember his password.  
I retreated to my own room, she was still sound asleep. I sat against the bed, waiting if she would wake up at any time.  
I know it was something like “skydragon” ever since he pursued his dream of learning how to fly. And soon after getting his license, he paid the highest bid for a dual-plane (a type of plane that can fly at sea or above land) called Dragon. He was ecstatic when he won.  
No, wait, he changed the password to “dragonwings” after some kid stole his phone at Food Chain. It was left in the bathroom for us to find later that day with death threats saying he would take his plane. Of course, we found the kid and reported him.  
I typed in his password, the screen opened to a message saying, “Unverified chip has been inserted. Pirated/ illegal content or viruses may be present. Open the website?” Yes.  
I searched through the website for a few minutes, eventually finding one mechanic I recognized all too well by his blue eyes, caramel complexion and standing violet curls. Fridae Ischemia, he was part of the bike ‘gang’ I was in during middle school. I still remember the flyers, Got a bike? Join the Gang! But what was he doing being a mechanic? I only remember he fixed the mild problems we had with our bikes. I haven’t seen him since then, so he must have picked up other skills along the way.  
I read his resume, he was completely qualified to do this job. I decided to put in a request for his work and started to write what I needed, a prosthetic arm installation and a visit from my middle school friend.  
While I wrote the rest of the request form, I heard Hanko wrestling with her blankets. “Morning, finally.” I didn’t pick my eyes up until I finished a few seconds later. She surveyed the room with wide, scared eyes. This was probably the first full cycle of sleep in a long while. She turned to me. “What is it?”  
“Bad.” What kind of bad? A nightmare?  
“Did you have a bad dream?” She obviously didn’t know what a dream was based on the look she gave me when I asked. “I mean, in your sleep, did you see something bad? And then you woke up?”  
She hesitantly nodded.  
“What did you see?”  
“I… I was gone.” Her eyes started to moisten when she said it.


	9. Edward the Vegan

As the news anchor looked into the camera, he tried his best not to seem mortified and his best to act professional, unaffected, which clearly wasn't working.  
“This just in: We’ve received word that eight days ago on Friday, at two forty-three AM, a person in ragged clothes recently identified as a Green, I repeat, a Green, carrying a pickaxe was sighted by a roadside security camera.” (This was when most people would eventually curl up in a ball and think about the worst.)  
“The footage records the subject walking onto the vacant street carrying the pickaxe, staring up at the sky on Tatums freeway. Approximately twenty-three seconds later, an unidentified grey vehicle swerved around the subject out of the security camera’s range of sight.” (Some viewers with silver cars soon after scheduled a recoloring of their car, hoping to not be suspected.)  
“Shortly after, a Red wearing all black assumed to be the driver of the vehicle, approached and disarmed the subject, and led them away without any struggle.” (The average person would then suspect any Red of being involved in this, adding more paranoia to their daily stresses and distantly investigated driver’s seats of grey cars to see if that person might be driving it, thinking they could catch that unknown person.)  
“The security company has not announced if the footage is either counterfeit nor the real deal. Neither people recorded in the footage have been identified as civilians as of now.” (“At least find out who the redhead is!!” was the most common thing people shouted at the television when they heard this.)  
“It is theorized the two people in this footage are part of an organization working towards, and are capable of, war, world chaos, and, potentially, the ultimate destruction of Orth.” (People in possession of heap-tons of money and land soon started preparing, gathering food and supplies, creating underground rooms and such.)  
“Local authorities have not taken action yet, but advise that if anyone sees a suspicious person that was depicted in the security footage to immediately call the news hotline.” (Some parents who watched the broadcast refused to let their children go back to school, knowing that a potential threat was walking around somewhere.)  
“Again, authorities have advised that if anyone sees a suspicious person from the footage to immediately call the news hotline.” (About half of the people who watched this broadcast asked around for any redheads who drove a grey car, believing someone they knew might be the culprit.)  
“It has not yet been confirmed if the whole occurrence is indeed a hoax or a genuine Green Alert.” (This announcement calmed a few thoughts of world destruction.)  
“Please stay tuned to this station for any updates.” The news station immediately cut to a five-minute commercial break.

The news broadcast was only shown in the city the incident occurred in, Doberonne. Concern spread to everyone in the district and later spread by internet users, causing panic across the continent San Alliese in only a few days. Rumors about camps raising green-haired people plotting to world domination found their ways to my ears by school chatter in the next district, Castie.  
I silently disagreed the, said, organizations were trying to take over the world. I thought about if they were, in fact, real. Since the site of the incident was in Doberonne, the one who appeared in the footage might still be there.  
I want to meet this unnamed “threat to society.”  
I asked Lystel what she thought about the sighting. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a prank by someone with a mind of a ten-year-old who thinks it’s funny to put bomb shelters on alert. You got another theory? Because, if it isn’t that, I'm still scared for my life.”  
“I actually do. You know how the subject was carrying a pickaxe?”  
She took a second to remember the news footage. “Yeah.”  
“Well, Doberonne's main exports are raw ores and minerals that come from their mining companies. I was thinking, what if that person was raised in secret near one of those mines, and let out, but maybe they covered it up with the pickaxe to look like that person broke out of one of the mines?”  
“The pickaxe was to throw everyone off?”  
“Yeah, and maybe they infiltrated the government long before this even happened.”  
She stared at me suspiciously, “You sound like you know everything about the situation.”  
I raised my eyebrows with a playful smile, “and if I do?”  
She soured her expression, “vegan.”  
“What?”  
She looked around, and started up again to me quietly, “First history lesson we keep constantly relearning; the only green guy who ever existed had to be killed because he killed an entire pigmerum tribe, and in consequence, destroyed the Islands of Doce Apostoles. Why do we keep relearning this?”  
I rolled my eyes as we said the constantly repeated sentence in unison, “because the state of the orth shouldn’t lay in one person’s grasp based on their emotions.”  
She looked me dead in the eyes with her golden gaze, “Edward, I know you don’t plan to be the executioner for this guy, don’t get attached to the story, and then you won't feel sorry.”  
“I know.”  
She picked her pencil back up, “Now, we better get back to our assignment before the substitute sees us off-task.”  
“Good idea. What was the name of America’s forty-fourth president and when did he first take office?”  
“Obama?”  
I tapped my pencil twice, “No. That’s the forty-third.”   
“Oh,” she narrowed her eyes, “then it’s… Trump. Right?”  
“And…” I waited for her to finish the answer.  
“2016 AD.”  
“Good. Your turn.”  
She bowed her head down and clapped her hands together, “Teach me your ways of wisdom and knowledge, O keeper of sacred teachings.”  
I went along with it, “You still have much to learn, young one. I have walked the difficult path of homeschool for the length of my childhood, led by private tutors.” I patted her head, “stop doing that.”  
She slumped her hands and propped her chin up on the desk, “then, will I be like you, O wise vegan?”  
If only she would learn not to be such an intense morning person getting herself ready for the day while listening to morning shows. “Maybe. But seriously, we need to get through this review.”  
We continued quizzing each other on ancient American history until we finished. I walked up to the substitute behind the desk, “we’re done, sir.”  
He craned his neck to match my gaze with his aging eyes, “thank you,” he flipped the attendance paper to the side with my name, “mister, um, Murfrog?”  
“Murfajje.”  
“I’m sorry, my eyes don’t serve me well at this age, I’m afraid.”  
I hate it when people apologize for things that they have no control over, especially disabilities, but I know they do it to be polite. “No, it’s fine. It’s always being mispronounced.”  
My mind went back to broadcasts and interviews where the reporters keep saying my last name wrong, even when interviewing me or my mother, right in front of us, no one stops them from saying how they think the name is supposed to sound. My mother always kept her professional composure she’s always displayed, and I have to mimic that to that side of her in order to keep my mother’s reputation at a good status.  
“Oh, I see.” he looked down at the attendance sheet again, “and your partner is miss Nirinus.”  
“Yes.”  
“Thank you. You have the rest of class to read your assigned book.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
I sat back down in my seat, Lystel stared at me. “What?” I asked.  
“Nothing. It’s just that… since my mother got back from her business trip, I feel like she’s been acting different.” Her mother went out on a business trip for a whole month, and while she was gone, Lystel stayed with me and my mother until she got back a few weeks ago.  
“What makes you say that?”  
“Well, she’s been constantly checking something on her phone that I don’t know anything about. Then she’s been acting friendlier than usual and vague. She got me this belt she said was a present from the person requesting her saying, “sorry for keeping your Mom for so long.” I feel like this is going to be a continuing problem.”  
I know how she feels, my mother went through the same thing when my aunt and father died. I never knew her. I barely remember him.  
I decided to change the subject since this was getting awkward. “So, what are you going to do tomorrow? I’m planning on going out of the district to visit a friend.” That was as far as I was going to explain where I was going to her. In reality, I was traveling to Doberonne to investigate the Green case on my own on.  
“My Mother has been planning on going through all our stuff and reorganize. Storage is a mess.” She pulled the book for our Literature class work out from her desk.  
I mimicked her movement. We opened to where we last left off, “I’ll read three paragraphs, then you’ll read three.”


	10. You Suicidal Sloth

Five quick knocks, then two. That was the pattern I was told by Allin to listen for. That was the mechanic here to give me my new arm. Allin checked through the hole in the door and let in the new person. This person had a skin tone darker than hers, similar eyes and a wild bush on his head in the most familiar color I’ve seen, purple. He carried a big box by a handle.  
He immediately locked eyes with me. He dropped the box, startled by both me and the box falling to the floor with a very loud sound. He reached down for it nervously. “Barry, you didn' tell me… this was the kind of kid I was makin’ an arm for!” Who's Barry? And how come he sounds so weird  
“I did! I said 'a disturbed/ introverted teenage girl who could possibly be dangerous.’” When did Allin tell him that? Wait, does Allin also go by the name Barry? How many names does she have?  
He hushed his tone, “Ya never said anything about her bein’ Green! This is… she- she is the definition of taboo. Yer gonna set the world off in a panic soon enough once word gets out that she's alive.” What’s taboo? How would I set off a panic?  
“Well, I'm sorry for having a heart big enough for someone who secretly existed for so long. You get past her appearance once you're around her long enough. At least appreciate how big it is after I saved you from almost killing yourself, Mia.” Why did he want to kill himself? Wait, his name is Mia? I was told the mechanic was Fridae. I’m not grasping this situation well at all.  
He didn't say anything for a moment, staring at the floor gripping his box. “Just lemme do my job and I'll leave when I'm done. I don't accept every job offer, so be thankful that I even came here from Plaeta.” What’s Plaeta?  
Allin crossed her arms. “...Then get to work already, you suicidal sloth.”  
Mia huffed, “Sit down. I needa do some measurements.” Me? He raised his head to my eyes, “You, Green. You're the only one here without an arm. Sit.” I backed away until my legs hit the bed, I sat down.  
“Her name is Hanko.” Allin glared at his back from an angle as he opened his box.  
“So it has a name.” He didn't face her.  
“Hanko is a she and she is human, so treat her like one!” Allin roared. She said that I’m human and I should be treated like one. I like how that sounds.  
Mia raised his voice in return, “Didn'cha already say ya wanted me to start workin’?!” When Allin stayed silent, he relaxed his shoulders and continued pulling things out.  
Mia put a small flat board on his squatted knees and moved a wound-up spiral he was unwinding against the length of my arm. He scribbled something on the board and proceeded to repeat the motions, putting the spiral-thing up to or around a part of my arm and writing something briefly. “Okay, this is too quiet, and I'm confused.” That's exactly how I feel. “Can you tell me why you have bruises around your neck n' wrist?” I understand that.  
Allin answered for me, “She got those marks from ability depressors from when she was a slave underground in the mines.”  
“What about your arm, Hanko?”  
My memories of all the dark times I was disciplined by being cut rushed back to me. “They didn't like me not working enough. They… started with fingers, kept going.” The unreal pain of my arm still hurts.  
“Who’s they?”  
Allin chimed in again, “She means ‘they’ as in Mine Masters; whenever she didn’t find enough of something, or she did something wrong, they would cut part of her arm off.”  
“And howda you know all this?”  
Allin leaned against the wall, “I found her a few days ago standing in the middle of the road, then I took her here and she told me.”  
“How long is ‘a few days’?”  
She knew immediately. “Two days ago.”  
“Good thing I was nearby and recognized my friend wantin’ help. And this was all the same day ya sent in the request for me?”  
“The night before.”  
“If you didn’ find her in the mine itself,” he looked up from what he was doing into my eyes, “how’d you get out of there?”  
My mind flashed back to all the blood, the Mine Master’s rage, my fear. “I killed the Mine Master.” Mia paused.  
“Did’ya get sick of what they were doing to you?” His tone had a hint of screwed-up happiness I didn't understand. “I’ll take yer silence as a yes.” I didn’t know that killing someone is a sign of sickness.  
“Am I still sick?” He made a strained noise and reached into his box.  
“‘Bein’ sick’ can mean two things: you're physically unwell, or ya…” he shifted his face to best suit deep thinking. “Well, ya feel you've had too much of somethin’ and ya don't want it anymore. It's a form a speech. You're not physically sick.”  
He retrieved a variety of thick metal sticks and tools I assumed were going to make my arm. He set them out in rows based on their form, from smallest to largest. “These’re the parts that I'm gonna put together to make yer artificial arm by strong magnetic bonds. I'm gonna connect a device on yer shoulder, that has to stay on at all times, that reads yer brain's signals that would go to the bones n’ muscles in yer arm, and redirects ‘em to the mechanical arm so ya can move it.”  
I scrunched my face up, not understanding what he meant. “Hm?”  
Allin simplified his words, “It reads your brain,” she tapped her head, “and what it wants your arm to do and connects those thoughts,” she trailed her finger to her shoulder, “to your new arm.” Her words made a lot more sense than what he said. “He’s going to put something on your shoulder for that to work.”  
But what is he going to put on my shoulder? I looked down to see what Mia was doing, he was twisting some of the metal rods together and twisting other tiny things into the unified rods.  
I still had two questions. “Is your name really Mia? And, is Allin really called Barry?” Mia lightened up with an intense smile and a strained grunting sound from his throat.  
“Those‘re our nicknames! We aren't really called Mia n’ Barry. My real name is Fridae Ischemia, and I'm called Mia cuz’ a my last name. And she's called Barry cuz’ her last name is Batroch. And her step-brother, Kuri'Shii, his nickname is Barry number two, or 2.0 fo short.” I didn’t know Shii already had a nickname. I might actually start to trust Fridae.  
Now I have another question. “What's a 'step-brother’?”  
“Ya sheltered kid! A step-relative is someone adopted into a family an’ they're not related to the family in any… they don't have th'same parents. Innis case, he was adopted into Allin's family when they were,” he turned to Allin, “what, you were seven an’ he was four?”  
“Yeah, seven and four.” Would that mean I'm a step-relative, then?  
He turned back to his work. “Speakin’ of, where is he?”  
I remember what he said when he left, “Getting food and clothes.”  
“Thasso cute! He's got himself a girlfrien’, an’ he's buyin’ stuff for her. You guys’re so grown up. Never thought I'd live to the day.”  
“You never wanted to.” Both of them were silent for a few seconds.  
“Those were dark times. I wan’t thinkin’ then.”  
“Mazel Tov, you have a brain.”  
“Thanks. I have a question for you,” he looked up to me again, “what’re you gonna do after this?” He looked back down from his work, moving on to another metal rod.  
I never thought of that. I’m out, but I don’t know what to do.  
“Y’know, you could make yourself known and fight for your right to live without limits. Somethin’ like a movement. Prove you’re safe s’more Greens could finally come into the world. I haven’t known any Greens,- ain't no one has,- til’ I met you. Y’seem practically harmless,” his tone darkened with his face, “but I don’ really know if you are.”  
“Of course not; I don’t either. Not even our own 2.0” Allin said, so matter-of-fact. “But that has nothing to do with what we know now,” she brought down her tone, “like, if room service was ever let in here, we would all get in trouble, HUGE, political trouble, and we would all probably die or serve a life sentence.” I don't know what political means, but the way that word was used, without question, means worse than horrible consequences ahead, death.  
“And we would be posed as terr-ists.” Fridae added quietly. I shifted my line of sight down while he was talking to what his hands were working on, it looked as if it was a shining arm chopped into pieces. That reminded me of what happened to my arm, now long gone. Disgusting, but fascinating at the same time.  
“Including 2.0.” Allin interrupted.  
“Def’nitely. But we would prob’ly be executed so info bout her don't go anywhere.” He pointed out.  
“Good point. But then, we can't keep her in here for much longer, and going from hotel to hotel would be risky and expensive.” She twisted her face and her eyes traveled almost in every direction. “Any suggestions, Mia?”  
His face did the same without the eye movements, still focused on his work. “Y'all could stay in a school fer a while. It’s gon’ be deserted for another month since they started their summer break.”  
“How do you know this?”  
“I’ve done this sorta thang in quite a few fundamental schools.” (The equivalent of elementary/ primary schools) “They’re always dead when there’s a break. An just so ya know, when th’shoulder piece gets put on, it's gon’ hurt for a while, and I guarantee you gon’ start screamin’.” Is getting an arm that bad?  
“Can't you give her something that'll knock her out?”  
“I ain’t a doctor’s office, so I can't give that to her.”  
“Okay,” she threw her arms up, “can she get painkillers?” How does someone kill pain?  
“If you find some in drug store circulation, yeah. Butcha only find em’ sometimes.” Drug store?  
“So I’ll find some.” So, drugs kill pain?  
“Sounds good.”  
Silence ruled the room as Fridae came close to finishing his work. I had no idea how the arm attachment process would work besides we would go somewhere else and it would hurt and I would scream. Knowing my history of losing the will to scream made me question how bad it would hurt to get a new arm. Screaming never helped me no matter the situation even when it was close to impossible to make a sound with the restraints I had for so long. Di’La’s face leaked whenever I tried screaming from pain. It’s like she feels my pain.  
Where has she been? I’ve been seeing her less and less recently. Maybe she found more things to do now that we’re out.  
I heard the familiar knocking pattern and flipped my head to the door. Five quick knocks, a slight pause, then two. Allin opened the door and quickly shut it, letting Shii in with plump brown bags. Fridae turned his head as he said, “2.0! How ya doin’, soldier?”  
Shii carefully set down the bags on the floor as they greeted each other. “Hey, Mia. I’m doing better than when I last saw you, seems you are, too. I was told you’re a prosthetics engineer, when did that happen?”  
Mia shrugged, “I had nothing to do after I graduated, so I figured I’d make myself more useful by studyin’ engineering an’ mechanics under the real thang. And now I’m makin’ an arm for yer girlfrien’ here.”  
Shii and I locked eyes for half a second, “She’s not my girlfriend.”  
“You’re wishin’ a curse on yerself. I get it, ya don’ wanna be a playa anymore, but it’s yer nature! Ya had so many girlfriends back then, an’ they loved ya to death!”  
Shii’s cheeks reddened, “I had one girlfriend for only a year. The others were friends.”  
“Nah, it was obvious. This is the same-”  
“No, it’s not! I had that one girlfriend and haven’t found anyone after that, alright?”  
Mia surrendered, “Arright, chief. Don’ blame me if there’s a real relationship.”  
“Don’t push it, either of you.” Allin ended the conversation. Mia turned back around to his work on the floor, scribbling something else down on his board. Allin picked up the nearest bag that Shii brought in, shoving her hand around. She picked out something narrow and black, “Why’d you get sunglasses?”  
“They’re for her.” Shii gestured towards me. “If she’s going outside sometime soon, her eyes need to adjust. You can change how much light it blocks out.”  
She turned the sunglasses in her hand, “I didn’t know they made these.” What exactly are sunglasses for? “She needs to try these on.” She paced toward me and put the sunglasses on my face, the world suddenly became much darker than before.  
“..What?” I fingered the metal sunglasses, pulling them off and putting them back on, mesmerized at the difference they made in how they helped me see everything. How do they do this?  
“Just tie her hair back and put her hood on. No one will know.” Allin sounded very confident in her idea.  
“That is quite a genius idea, my kind sir.”


	11. Flymax and Cardinal

I'm glad there are only two more weeks left of the school semester because most schools already got out for the summer weeks ago. But that's only part of the effect of being part of the Black Tower families. It's truly miserable being tied to politics or huge businesses for your whole life. With my mother being part of the military head and having no other family means I've only had Lystel to keep me company with others coming in and out of my life. If only our musical abilities could set us up for life instead of the few predetermined paths. But that’s how the country keeps itself together without going ludicrous.  
The station was three more minutes away by train. The view of Doberonne from my seat was so much busier and vertically built than the refined streets of Castie. Less sunshine than Castie and much more dreary clouds.  
I pulled out my phone and inserted the website card, pulling up Someids. Pictures of the Doberonne skyline would be a nice addition to what I normally share. I pointed the camera out the window, zooming in to the high-rise businesses and tenant buildings. Three pictures to choose from would be enough. I chose the least blurry photo with a brief description, “I’ve never seen such tall buildings but the one I live in. FBIT” (FBIT means ‘funny because it’s true’)  
I decided to check up on Lystel’s account. One new photo, her holding up sheet music. The caption read, “New song for SotK will be finished in hopefully a week!” She was talking about our unofficial band, I play anything with a keyboard and she plays the drums. We decided that we could both do the vocals. She writes most of the music while I make the seldom lyrics.  
We started Son of the King in our seventh year of school when we both found an appreciation for music and the ability to read music.  
It’s been three years since then, two members strong since the beginning. We’ve found a few events over time looking for local musical groups. But we’ve been trying to build up to qualifying for being part of the Doomsday Parade.  
The parade comes around every two years with independent musicians and their own parade troop. We’re barely close to “novice” with our equipment and time management, not to mention we’re still in school and we’ll have our own government-related responsibilities once our studies are finished. That’s why we planned on going as fast as we can to the top before time runs out while also multitasking. But we can always send an application for the board’s consideration as long as we meet the requirements.  
If only we were never born into this line of strict expectations with closing-in work prisons. Best class doesn't always mean the best life. Being one class lower would be a miracle for myself and Lystel.  
One man, I'm very sure, followed me on to the train, staying right behind me from my initial departure from Castie up till now. I suspect my mother wants to make sure I'm safe. Either that, or he's a stalking creep up to something. I didn't want to think about what would happen if he really was a stalker. His cap does nothing to hide his scarlet dreadlocks, his thin icy eyes, and his servants’ earring. I'll call him SDS, or Sidus. Scarlet dreadlock stalker.  
The train soon arrived at the station. I quickly walked off the platform and towards the nearest public building, a general store. If I walk in the weirdest of paths, he's sure to lose track of me.  
He didn't follow me completely into the store. He waited near the entrance I walked into, possibly knowing what my intentions were or that it was the perfect place to scream about a stranger and someone would come running. I took the entrance on the opposite side of the building to take leave.  
Simple.  
I found my way to Tatums freeway, the site of the incident. A scarlet man holding a camera on his shoulder followed a very animated violet woman asking countless questions to passersby on the sidewalk. A reporter. They likely wouldn’t leave until their lunch break. I decided to keep a large distance from them.  
But maybe during their lunch break, when they left the equipment alone, I could ask them about what they’ve gathered from the people they briefly interviewed. They would listen to someone of a higher class.  
Many TV stations were covering the Green Scare, how the main public reacted to it and how to prepare for possible mass destruction. Of course, why wouldn’t they be covering this topic as well? The country and I would assume the world would, eventually, would be panicking and trying whatever they could to stay alive as long as they could.  
The government was also in a hurry with their tasks and scrambling to   
I walked around for half an hour, by what my watch displayed. I returned to where the cameraman and the animated woman were recording. The woman was talking to him while he was looking for something inside a TV station van, likely theirs.  
“Excuse me!” I quickened my pace towards them. The woman shot her attention to me. “What are you interviewing about?”  
She yelled something with vigorous hand motions to her coworker in the van, to which he stumbled out and synchronized with her bowing. A bow is a formal greeting from someone of a lower class to someone of a royal family. They composed themselves uniformly without looking me in the eye. Another custom.  
“At ease. What station are you here for and what are you interviewing about?” They eased their stances and the woman stepped forward.  
“We are here to cover the public’s opinions and personal stories about the recent Green Scare at this location. We work for 2nd National news station.”  
I suspected so. No wonder they’re asking around the streets with such energy. I tried to hide my cringing with the question I was hoping to ask, “In your collecting today, would you say that you’ve discovered any suspicious stories?”  
Her brow raised and her face filled out a stifled grin. “I definitely did. A drunk came by and said he knows the Green. But then, he was holding a huge can of soda and stumbled around, so he obviously didn’t know what he was saying.”  
“I think it would be best to look into it just in case. How would you describe him?”  
“Orange, tall, flirty. He wore a grey jacket and a blue scarf.”  
“And the direction he was coming from and when?”  
“I’m pretty sure he was coming from the main part of town, heading towards the docks. It was about an hour ago.”  
“Thank you, and make sure to report what you just said to me to the police. It might help. And don’t air the footage of him on your station. Good day to you.”  
“You’re very welcome sir. I’ll do that for you.”  
I nodded in return and headed down to the docks. Suddenly, I remembered my stalker, Sidus, I called him. I turned my head back towards them, “If a man with red dreadlocks and a cap asks about me, say I was only eating lunch. Thank you, again.”  
Their expressions, as I turned back, were tightened with mild concern.  
I reached the docks later than I first expected and sat down on a nearby bench facing the ocean. I looked around, noting the number of boats there were and the few sea and dual planes gathered in one area.  
I searched the docks for that man after my legs finished complaining. I searched and asked others that didn't obviously fit the description where I might find the man. I was eventually directed to a man fitting the description passed out in the open-air cockpit of a racing style dual plane.  
I tried waking him, “Ay!” He wasn’t moving, “ay, flymax!” He practically leaped as he woke to my yelling.  
“Whatcha want, CHIEF?” He most definitely passed out from soda. He searched and found me below, “yyou’re asking?” He leaned over the side and pointed a finger at me, waving it around.  
“Indeed I am.”  
“You’re a kid!”  
“Problem?”  
He took a moment to come up with a response. "You're... blue."  
I was dumbstruck at his excuse. How could being approached by a blue kid be a problem? He should be more ashamed in the current state he’s in.  
He said something but he slurred it so much I couldn’t understand him.  
“Could you repeat that?”  
“What, you not speak Common? I SAID, why’re you talking to me, Your Majesty?”  
I couldn’t take this, first calling me a kid and then rudely spitting ‘Your Majesty’ like a joke. Only the Quing should be addressed as Your Majesty. “If you’re going to say things like that, I could report you for two reasons.”  
“Huh?”  
“Insulting a person of the highest class and housing a criminal!”  
“She ain’t criminal just for living!”  
He definitely knew what I meant, but I couldn’t think anymore, “Then why don’t you come down here, you sloth and prove this cussing ‘she’ is perfectly harmless!” I clamped my mouth shut. I wasn’t supposed to say those words aloud, let alone scream them.  
“That’s it.” He threw a crumpled can of soda at my feet and climbed out of his plane. He hopped down and straightened himself. He towered over me more than twice my height. Now I know what the reporter meant by tall. But could only be a couple of years older than me.  
He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. I really didn’t want it to escalate to what I thought it would. I noticed tears streaking down his face. “You want to see her, then?” What did he mean by that? What was he going to do? “I’ll prove she’s fine.” His voice was quivering and he wasn’t letting go. Did he actually mean he was going to bring me to her?  
It seemed like minutes went by as my feet barely touched the ground. “Could you let go, then?” He loosened his grip and dropped his fist.  
“Why’re you interested?”  
I just am. But I really wondered about that now. “I think… I want to find out what to believe. I’m curious.”  
He sighed and stepped back. “You know how to fight?” I wasn’t sure if that was a threat or a precaution.  
“Not really.”  
“Good.” He jutted out his foot to my leg. Next thing I knew, I was on my hands and knees, hurting. “Stay.” He climbed up into the cockpit, fumbling for something with clattering and mumbling.  
I stayed on the ground as he told me, but the position wasn't comfortable or convenient to stay in. What am I, a canine? I sat myself down on the ground, he must have heard my boots against the wooden planks because he immediately retorted.  
"Hands and knees!" I shuffled my boots against the planks, faking what he wanted.  
He jumped down from the plane with something clenched in his hand. He faced me from far above, "forget it." He held the object close to his mouth, it was a two-way radio. "Cardinal, come in."  
"What are you doing?" I asked.  
"Calling my…" he gestured wildly at the air, "captain…?" He tossed his eyes and talked into the radio again. "Cardinal, any time now. I got a situation."  
A moment later, the receiving end responded, "What's happening?" This Cardinal has the voice of a woman.  
"Found us a willing hostage."  
"How did you get a hostage, and why would we need one?"  
Those are both excellent questions, I never agreed to be a hostage, and if they did use me as a hostage, what would they want to accomplish? "Tell her why you need me, flymax." He scowled at me.  
He spoke into the radio, "he came looking for me. Says he wants to know what to believe. We can bargain with him." I patter my fingers on my knees, listening to the conversation.  
"But what would we bargain for in the first place? What, 'let Han- fight club girl live in exchange for some random guy's life'? That's stupid."  
"Nah, he's not some random kid. He's a blue kid. Kid, what's the family name and… uh, status?"  
"Murfajje. Black tower." I replied. He seemed astounded to hear that by how his eyes widened and became temporarily sobered.  
"Black Tower. He's a… Murfoj." Why can't anyone pronounce my family name correctly? He flipped his head towards me, "what are you supposed to be good at?"  
I knew exactly what he meant. Each tower of families, black, silver and white, have an assigned range of responsibilities in San Alliese's government. My mother found out at a young age that she enjoys using weapons, and since the military is mainly under the Black Tower's jurisdiction, she became a general. She wants me to follow closely behind.  
"Military strategics." He whistles at what I've been forced into, like how someone loves what an attack dog has been trained to do. Especially if it's an innocent lapdog trained by barbarians.  
He repeated my words over the radio. They continued their conversation while I remembered Sidus, how he was likely panicking, looking everywhere for me, wondering if I managed to escape him myself, or if I had been kidnapped. The second option was bound to happen soon, so both thoughts would be completely valid, then.  
It would be best to warn these two about Sidus and any assistance he might have gathered. "Ay, flymax. Just so you know, I have a red stalker who may or may not be a family servant. I think it's best we leave soon. He might have help."  
He relayed the message to Cardinal and we briefly waited for a response. "Alright, I'm going to drive to your location and pick you two up. Kid, what's your name?"  
Never give correct information to people who might be enemies. Flymax lowered the radio to my level, "Murphy, madame."  
Radio silence for a moment, I knew she was laughing at the fake name I gave her. "First we have Madame Cardinal, and now Murphy Murfoj in military stuff as our captive." I could hear the giddiness very well in her words down here. "Welcome aboard to fight club. Our first rule is, don't talk about fight club. Ever. To anyone." I've never experienced any fight club, although I've heard that rule before. "Uh, Dragon, you're still at the docks, right?"  
"Yes, I am, Madame Cardinal."  
"And I'm also pretty sure that fight club girl never drinks."  
'Dragon' bit his lip, "mm hmm."  
"Gee, thanks." The sarcasm was so clear, I thought about if Dragon was old enough to drink compared to Cardinal. "I'm starting to question your innocence."  
Then I noticed, his face didn't have the complete adult look to it. He appeared as an unsure recent school graduate.


	12. Welcome to Fight Club

I pull up in the silver rental car. It would have been obvious that I was the ‘Red perpetrator’ to swap out the car after the first Green scare news report, so I kept it. But it would still beg others to look inside, so I tried keeping Hanko out of the car as much as possible.  
Kuri’Shii taps on the window. I roll it down and he starts his explanation. “Okay, he doesn’t know anything about… what do we… ffight club girl. Is she… is she doing okay with Mia?”  
I can see the stained streaming tears on his face and a blue kid sitting on the ground, clearly willing to be a hostage without any bindings on him. “Last I saw her, she was talking to someone that wasn’t there. I think the pain of her arm attachment is making her hallucinate. Other than that, she’s perfectly fine.”  
“Alright.”  
“Anything I should know?”  
He thought about that for a second. “He knows military strategy without... the fighting part. He has a stalker, who may be coming here right now,” that’s not too concerning, “and I think he said he’s a servant.”  
That’s too far. “We’re going now, get him in.”  
He paced over to our willing captive and pulled him into the back of the car.  
“You got your walkie-talkie?” I asked Shii.  
He sighed, “I’ll go get it.”  
I shifted in my seat to face our captive. “Your name is Murphy? What’s it short for?”  
He looked up at me, uncertainty in his eyes. “Nothing. That’s my name.” I loved his upstate accent and the quality of his clothes; a sparkling indigo vest, a stark white button-up shirt, custom-fit pants of the perfect shade of grey and spotless periwinkle loafers.  
“I’ve never heard of anyone with the name Murphy.”  
He gazed down at his twiddling fingers, “my parents aren’t creative with names, so they alliterated.”  
Shii opened the passenger’s car door and sat down next to me. He held up the walkie-talkie, “got it.”  
“You go to the backseat and make sure he doesn’t try anything. Blindfold him, too.” He complied with that and tied his scarf around Murphy’s eyes.  
“Seatbelts, everyone!” We buckled our seatbelts and I drove us out of the docks, headed towards the fundamental school.  
Kuri’Shii caught on to my reference quick, “please don’t let this be a normal field trip.”  
I continued with a giddy smile as I said, “with the Friz, no way!” Before we burst out into song, I saw Murphy silently grimace in the rearview mirror.  
I couldn’t stop thinking about the tiny hidden cameras that could be anywhere on Murphy. Our visit to the internet store right before we met Hanko kept invading my thoughts. One of the buttons on his shirt might as well be a camera that has already seen both of our faces.  
I can’t go back to jail and drag anyone with me. But we’re dealing with keeping a taboo person alive, so of course, we would all be executed.  
We reached the end of the car ride at the fundamental school. To avoid looking suspicious, I’ve been parking across the street and entering the school through a back entrance we busted near the gymnasium.  
We did the same today.  
Shii untied his scarf from around the young boy’s eyes and led him by the arm. They walked side by side, and I in front as we led our hostage into the building.  
Fridae and Hanko were in the gymnasium, for once. He was helping her build up some muscle and endurance as some sort of personal trainer. They were jogging along the walls of the expansive room, she at a notable distance behind him. She was looking much better than before we ever came to the school to hide.  
After Hanko’s pain from the arm “insertion” was seemingly gone, she began walking around the small campus building, forcing us to track her down and keep her away from windows. We’ve been taking shifts of keeping track of her and keeping her out of any trouble.  
I can understand her desire to explore, knowing that she hasn’t been above ground for very long. But she can’t be discovered by anyone we don’t trust, which goes the same with our blue friend. We need to prevent any information about Hanko being leaked by him, especially our location.  
I turned to see Murphy’s face when he saw Hanko and Fridae slowing down at our arrival. Hanko was clearly jogging faster than she ever has in her life by the way her whole self bobbed tremendously as she stopped.  
He was undoubtedly shocked, as were the other two reactions I got to witness.  
Too bad one of the witnesses is too focused on money to stay with us much longer. Our purple-topped friend announced to us earlier that day that he would be continuing his traveling prostheses maintenance instead of joining our cause. He said, “I can’t abandon crippled people and put my life on hold to help make a riot.”  
He is a workaholic, but it makes good moral sense and good money cents. I’m proud of him, he’s definitely come a long way from when I first met him in our sixth year.  
My mind kept reviewing the thought of a hidden camera, so I entertained it. “Hold on!” I reached for Murphy, grabbing the collar of his shirt.  
Shii flicked his eyes in my direction, “what are you doing?”  
I turned Murphy around. “Can’t let you get close without caution. You could have cameras anywhere on you and we wouldn’t know. You can find extra gym uniforms in the office over there. Change into one. He’ll go with you.” I gestured to the coaches’ office and nodded at Shii, all while keeping my eye on our frightened hostage.  
He grimaced in disgust as he was led to the office for his change of clothes. “They’ll fit really well for someone your size!”  
We waited a few minutes for the boys to emerge, so I explained the situation to Fridae and Hanko.  
Eventually, they came out of the office, our hostage in a pastel coral t-shirt and deep turquoise gym shorts, barefoot. I was right, the uniform fits well for him, but just a bit oversized. The school’s name was plastered front and back on him, Seaside Fundamental. “Dragon, search his clothes for anything suspicious.”  
Shii turned back around for the office again. “Gotcha.”  
I returned my attention back to the situation at hand, “Murphy, why don’t you meet your new friend? She’s dying to meet you.” I could still hear her panting from the light workout, even after three whole minutes.  
He was continuously annoyed by our hospitality not keeping up to his high standards. He approached her, Fridae and I kept an eye on his movements, making sure he didn’t try anything rash. He was slow to move his feet. “Come on, we don’t have all day for this.” He rolled his eyes, planting his feet on the ground loudly as he advanced quicker.  
I noticed Hanko, hesitant to do anything, still panting against the wall. She was uncertain about this new recruit by the look in her glare, a false cold. He stopped three meters away from her. He’s scared she might do something, she feels the exact same. Murphy released a quivering breath. “Why did they let you live?” Why? I’ve never thought of that until now.  
She narrowed her eyes and averted them from his golden stare. “I… don’t know.” I could barely hear her through her breaths, but that was all we were ever going to find out about her intended purpose. Maybe she really knows but doesn’t want to be reminded of anything before her escape. But I know virtually nothing about her except her name. She barely even knows herself.  
“What do you know…?”  
“I’ve been looking for minerals... most of my life.”  
“Nothing before that?” She shook her head. "Was there anything else important while you did all that? Any destroying?" His tone elevated at the last word.  
Her eyes slowly widened as she stared at the reflective floor. "There was… I was taken out of the mine a long time ago... and put in a room where they put things in me... then they took me outside." I can practically feel the panic in her quaking voice. “It wasn’t this outside, but they told me to think of the worst feeling. I made bad rain and wind from that. And then everyone around me started to scream and... fall…"  
She started retching. Fridae immediately rushed to her side.  
That was a very delayed reflex.  
He led the convulsing Hanko into the locker room where I could then hear vomiting.  
I averted my attention to Murphy, I remembered that Shii mentioned someone trailing him. "So, about that stalker of yours, do you think he might have trackers on you?"  
As if on cue, Shii came running out of the office, "there's something in his shirt!"  
I can't tell if he's joking. "What did you find?"  
"It looks like a camera or a tracker," he jabbed his finger at Murphy,   
Murphy interjected, "how do know what one looks like?"  
Experience.  
"We've used them." That's a lie, I had one on me while in jail to record my conduct. Thanks to it, I got out early. I've only ever researched spycraft, never used it.  
And here I am.  
Shoot shot a glance at me, hesitant to confirm or deny.  
"We gotta leave. Authorities could be on their way right now." The memory of their reflective helmets and black uniforms haunts me. I pointed to the locker room, "go tell them we're leaving."  
Shii tossed me the shirt and quickly sprinted to the locker room. I didn’t feel like catching it, so I let it flutter down to my feet. Screw luxury items.  
Turning back to Murphy, I asked his plan of action, “you staying with us or leaving?”  
Looking me straight in the eye, he gave his answer. “I’ll stay here.”  
One more member. I perked up the edge of my lip. “Welcome to Fight Club.” I stuck my hand out for him, he took it. He has a good grip. I yanked his hand down and he stumbled with it. “First rule about Fight Club is we don’t talk about Fight Club girl,” he looked back up to me, “and that means to not leak any information.”  
I like this new sense of authority.


End file.
